


Visions

by JessieMay



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Telepathy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieMay/pseuds/JessieMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles knew the look in his friend's eye. Erik was daring him to read his thoughts. Charles knew better and he wasn't going to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions

 

The days Charles spent with Erik were not difficult, mostly: It wasn’t the many chess matches they'd often played to pass the time; It wasn’t the conversations out on the grounds, in which Erik would confide in Charles his fears and aspirations without Charles even having to prod him or read his thoughts (which Erik hated), and Charles in return would share his own dreams and fears; It wasn’t the friction when the discussion inevitably turned toward the future of mutants and their projected role in society and when neither of them would be swayed from each their separate principles (though admittedly that was a downside of being close with Erik). No, most of the time, Charles very much enjoyed his time with Erik. He felt more awake, more open, more challenged, and more important when he was around the metal bending mutant than he'd felt in a very long time.

In truth, what bothered Charles the most, what planted the seeds of dread deep in his stomach and sent the hairs on the back of his neck standing erect, were the silences.

 

Deep blue eyes, the color of a clear day, were locked in the stare of icy blue ones, the color of glaciers.

“Erik,” Charles began. The pause had already gone on too long and the Oxford graduate quickly scanned for a topic to end it _._

“Mm,” Erik moaned more than answered. His eyes did not leave his companion and Charles felt the dread swelling in his chest.

Charles opened his mouth and nothing came out. He'd come to recognize the look currently darkening his companion’s face.

Erik sat relaxed in the mid-sized couch across from Charles, who was sitting in the arm chair, growing increasingly rigid. The metal-bender's legs were slightly parted and he wore a too-calm look on his face to counter Charles’ own look of concentrated composure. Charles knew what was happening.

Erik wanted him to look into his head.

Charles knew better. He wasn’t going to do it.

 

 

The first time had been an accident.

It was warm and they all went for a swim in the grounds lake. Reclining on the dock, Erik had gone oddly silent. The telepathic mutant didn't easily resort to prying in his friend’s head anymore, knowing how much Erik resented it. Also, as the two grew closer, Charles found he no longer needed to pry. Erik would tell Charles almost anything he wanted to know.

That day, however-- and it seemed to have been happening more and more frequently lately-- Erik had spoken very little to his friend. Charles didn’t see the harm in taking a look. It was only a little peak, he'd told himself. They knew each other well now. It was unlikely that Erik even had anything to hide. Probably, Charles thought, the man was just thinking about how he was going to get Scott back for nearly boiling him alive in his attempt to warm up the water of the lake. With mischievous grin, Charles extended his mind's reach to touch the thoughts of the man whose eyes would not meet his own. It couldn't have been longer than a second, but the flashes of images he saw, vivid and sometimes violent, were enough to jolt him out of the connection as quickly as he’d found it. When Charles came to, eyes fluttering open, he was looking into the icy, unblinking eyes of his friend. The stunned look on Erik’s face said that he knew what Charles had done. There was embarrassment, shock, betrayal, but most of all, shame. Neither of them took a breath.

After that day, nothing was mentioned. Neither man spoke of what Charles had seen in Erik’s head. They carried on normally, walking the grounds, playing chess and mentoring the children. Perhaps it was the fact that Charles hadn’t said anything. Perhaps Erik wanted him to address it, to acknowledge in some way that it _had_ happened. Whatever the reason, it wasn't long after The Lake Incident that the silences started coming on. This time however, Erik seemed to be perpetuating them. He didn't avoid Charles or even seem distant anymore. He looked the biophysics graduate dead in the eye as he did it, as if daring him.

What could Charles do?

The telepath, despite himself, took another look into his silent friend’s head. He couldn't say why he did it again. It might have been out of disbelief that he’d really seen what he thought he did at the lake. Or maybe it was just insurmountable curiosity. Either way, each time Charles ventured back into the head of his closest companion after that-- and there were numerous more times-- he was met with more flashing images, voices, whole movies playing out. Each contact was more explicit and grotesque than the last. Charles regretted looking every time but somehow he couldn't stop himself. The inexplicable silences grew more frequent and Erik seemed to be bringing them on. His icy eyes watched Charles and waited, counting on the empathetic mutant's inability to ignore someone in need of his care and attention. And Charles never failed to cave.

After each time Charles severed a connection, his eyes would flutter open to find Erik staring back at him with a strange expression on his face. It was nothing like the day at the lake. There was no shame, no shock. Erik knew that Charles had seen but he wasn't upset by it now. Charles couldn't explain it but it was as though Erik was inviting him to look, taunting him. Erik _wanted_ Charles to see, wanted him to respond.

But Charles would never mention what he saw. It was difficult enough just knowing he'd seen it. In those situations, the telepath would usually turn away quickly, voice caught in his throat and heart pounding.

What Charles saw in his companion’s mind, in every flashing image, every scene, were various acts of sex. Rapid and lurid and sometimes violent, the visions in Erik’s head were of all levels and gradients of sexual nature and themes. As explicit and blaring as the acts were, what struck Charles the most, what shocked and rattled him to the core, was that the scenes and images, as varying and rapidly changing as they were, all featured he and Erik.He and Erik. Together. It was vague at first-- the images flashed so quickly-- but soon the pattern was undeniable. There was the young professor contorted and bent into strange and unnatural positions, exposed in various stages of undress, sometimes completely bare but always wearing a sheen of sweat and a look of abandon as his body writhed and wretched. And there was Erik…

 

 

Charles swallowed, throat feeling suddenly dry. He took a sip of his tea and set it back on the coffee table. The man on the couch across from him shifted slightly. Charles knew Erik was watching him as keenly as he always did when the silences came.

Charles no longer wanted to make eye contact with the man for fear that he might accidentally see something shining back in those glacial irises.

“Charles,” came the smooth, inquiring voice, “Is there something on your mind?”

Charles looked up then. When he met the other man’s eyes, he was hit with a wave of tension. Although the mutant who commanded metal was a perfect picture of composure and poise there on the couch, Charles could sense a clawing hunger beneath the facade.

Then, as if the other man’s eyes were luring him in, Charles’ mind began to drift to the other side of the table. Suddenly, flashes of images invaded his vision.

_There was a man on his knees in front of the couch between Erik's legs. The man who's face was hidden wore Charles' clothes but his button up shirt was splayed open and his pants were bunched up around his ankles beneath him. Erik gripped the man's curly-haired head firmly in both hands as he forced it down onto his thrusting hips. The gargling sound of wet choking came from the man on the ground. His hands gripped at Erik's thighs and Erik wore a look of brazen ecstacy._

Charles broke the scene off instantly.

“It’s just,” Charles choked out, blinking hard.

Erik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking quizzically at Charles as if he were suddenly very interested in what he was saying.

“There’s a fish,” Charles continued, grasping to keep his consciousness from drifting to the beckoning mind on the other side of the coffee table. “In the aquarium. He’s very territorial. We’ll need to get him a separate tank so he doesn’t wear himself out warding off the other fish.”

Erik watched Charles rise from the leather armchair and move to stand in the window.

“Sean has grown quite concerned with him,” Charles said absently, sliding his hands into his pockets.

He watched the snow falling outside of the large window. He couldn’t see the ground, it was so lost in the flurry. The cold air coming in through the pane cooled his burning face.

“Do you suppose we ought to just release it into the lake?” he asked the man, whom he knew was now standing directly behind him.

Erik stepped closer and Charles felt the warmth of the larger figure at his back.

Suddenly, Charles was clutching the window as his mind was accosted with another swarm of images.

_Charles was on his back, naked on the desk in the study, legs splayed open, shirt shoved half hazardly up to reveal rapidly rising and falling chest. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and beneath his trembling hand, his face was flushed. Shaky groans passed between quivering lips. Erik was kneeling between his thighs, holding them open as his insatiable tongue delved deeply into the professor._

There was hot breath on his neck when Charles regained his composure.

“Erik,” he pleaded, voice quiet but stern. He very rarely needed to raise his voice to get his point across.

“Charles,” the man behind him breathed back.

Erik was so close now. Charles knew he was beginning to sweat visibly. He was too warm. His thoughts were racing. He'd evaded Erik for so long, but as the dreaded mutant towered over him, it was clear that Charles' days of running had come to an end. He would keep his composure if nothing else. He needed to keep control or he would not be able to keep his mind from bending to the dominant presence of the other man. He felt the overbearing will of the man’s mind bending him as though Charles where a sheet of metal.

“Please, stop this.” Charles said, voice level.

“Stop me.” Erik replied and his low firm, voice was in Charles’ ear, "I know you can."

Charles evened his breathing.

“Can you stop me without looking in my head?” Erik grazed his lips over the back of Charles neck, “Or are you afraid of what you’ll see?” The simple but intimate nature of the touch threatened to break what control Charles had managed to maintain throughout their tense interaction.

Charles turned quickly to face the prying man. Between the cold glass and the firm body blocking him in, Charles was trapped. He didn’t want to think that his friend would stop him if he tried to get away but something in the man’s urgent stare told Charles he  wouldn’t let him go.

Charles no longer had to look into Erik's head to know what he was thinking. The look on the taller man's face said it all.

Erik’s heavy-lidded eyes made the metal-manipulator look drunk with want as he scanned Charles' own boyish features.

“That’s not it,” Charles said finally, desperate to sound firm, but Erik was so close that the telepath felt like a fox cornered by a snarling hound, and his voice came out shrunken.

“No?” Erik, coaxed. His hands rose to rest against the window pane on either side of Charles body, barring in the slighter man.

“No,” Charles said more firmly, now meeting the other man’s eyes. “I don’t want to control you, Erik.”

And that was enough.

“Then look into my mind," Erik said, catching Charles off guard with the new desperation in his voice. “If you don’t fear what you’ll find.”

The young professor began to shake his head and to decline, wishing he had room to back away, but Erik firmly grabbed his hands and placed them on either side of his own head.

“Look,” he insisted, holding Charles’ hands in place.

“Erik, this--”

“Look.” He said again, and his voice was low and his eyes bore into Charles with all the trust and knowing they had built together.

Too easily, Charles’ mind drifted to his comrade’s and touched his thoughts. Instantly, like an broken damn, a flood of images and scenes began cascading into his own mind:

_Charles against the window. Erik holding him up by his thighs as he grinds into him; Charles on the ground with his pants around his ankles and his shirt tugged up and his face burried in his arm to muffle his screams as Erik burrows into him mercilessly; Charles bent over the couch; Charles bent over the desk; Charles trying to address a class while Erik sucks him relentlessly under the desk._

The images were not only vivid but they were charged with uninhibited emotion and feeling, and Charles could feel Erik’s hunger and arousal as if they were his own and his body prickled and writhed, longing for the pleasure and touch that the fantasies portrayed. The connection was consuming.

Charles’ breathing began to quicken and Erik could feel his heart racing.

“Don’t stop.” Erik moaned, leaning down to brush his mouth against Charles’ ear and to taste the heat coming off of him.

“Erik,” came Charles’ breathy voice.

His eyelids were fluttering and Erik thought he looked like he was in a trance.

“Do you like it, Charles?” He whispered against the other man’s parted lips.

Charles cheeks were flushed and his skin damp with perspiration.

Erik watched the fluttering eyes and softly panting mouth and slid one hand down from the hold he'd had on Charles' wrists to cup the front of the khaki slacks.

At that point, Charles’ eyes opened. Erik froze. Charles was watching Erik carefully but, to Erik’s relief, did not break the connection. So, under Charles’ flushed gaze, Erik continued kneading his companion's already hardening length, eliciting gasps and soft moans from the reddening lips. The metal bender relished the sounds and removed his hand to instead grind his hips into the other man's. He let his hands explore Charles’s shuddering body, gliding them up his thighs and sides and finally wrapping around the slighter man to pull him close.

Their eyes were locked on each other’s. Their lips met.

Erik kissed Charles and Charles didn’t push him away. Erik felt the other man’s hands release their fixed hold on his head and slide down to gently embrace the taller man’s face as the kiss deepened.

Erik wrapped his arms around Charles as though he were trying to envelope him. They arched and ground into each other for some minutes before the desperation eased and the kiss became more slowed and tender. Charles cradled Erik’s jaw as he gave him one last gentle peck before letting his head fall back against the window and taking a moment to catch his breath.

Erik took in the sight of the frazzled, young Oxford graduate. Charles’ eyes were glazed and weary, his lips were swollen and a brighter flush than normal. The professor’s eyes were scanning him as well and Erik realized he probably looked very similar.

“I have … a vision as well…” Charles said between pants.

Before Erik could register the statement, his vision was flooded with bright, flashing images. He saw a large stone building filled with many young adults carrying backpacks and books. There were classrooms with strange looking instructors teaching even stranger lessons. He knew at once it was a school for mutants. He saw himself and Charles descending the main steps, laughing and speaking jovially with one another. Above the entrance read the name, “The Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr School for Extraordinary Students”. He saw board rooms with politicians and what appeared to be the Commander and Chief shaking hands with what Erik knew to be a mutant. Odd looking children held hands and played games with unmutated children. There were mutants neighboring normal folk, both fully aware and unprejudiced. He saw a world at peace, a world where mutants and non-mutants lived together with neither fear nor war.

The connection faded and Erik opened his eyes to see Charles staring back at him. The telepath was still held up against the window, still panting softly, his eyes radiating an unmistakable gleam of hope.

Slowly, Erik uncoiled himself from the disheveled man. Charles regained his footing but didn’t bother with straightening himself. He watched Erik carefully, concern furrowing his brow.

“That is your fantasy, is it?” Erik said soberly, pulling at his sweater and running a hand through his hair.

“It doesn’t have to be a fantasy. It can be very real, Erik,” Charles said evenly, “As real as--”

“As real as mine?” Erik grinned a dead-eyed smile down at his sweater and the telepath realized late that what he'd said had sounded like an ultimatum. Maybe it was, he decided.

Erik laughed to himself. The world-wise mutant could see Charles’ vision of the world but he did not believe in it. He desired the man in front of him more than he'd ever desired anything but the pretty, glowing world in his vision would never be.

“Perhaps,” Erik said, and Charles felt the cold coming through the glass again. “Perhaps they are all just fantasies.” Erik turned and left the study.

Charles stared after his friend and remained by the window. After a while, he turned and watched the snow.

 


End file.
